Chapter 19 - Letters over Breakfast
July 6th, 1992 (Monday)
Location: Granger's House - Heathgate, Hampstead
"Okay, Hermione, you know the practice's numbers," Jean is saying as Meissa and Daphne eats their breakfast - a hearty breakfast of cereal. Henry has already left the house to get the car started so they can leave.
"Yes, mum," Hermione dutifully recites, holding up her mother's things.
Her parents can't afford to take off an entire week from their practice so they're planning on taking a half day. However, the girls would have free reign of the house until mid-afternoon. Jean may be comfortable leaving Hermione by herself for a few hours before but right now, with two girls unfamiliar with the mundane world, she wants to be positive that they'd know how to contact them if needed.
"We should be back in time for supper," Jean affirms, accepting her things.
"Okay," Hermione opens the door for her mother, accepting the quick forehead kiss from her before her whirlwind of a mother is gone through the door. From the kitchen, Meissa and Daphne peers into the foyer as the Gryffindor closes the door behind her mother.
"She's a worrywart," Meissa remarks from her position, keeping a light tone as she says this.
"Yeah," Hermione mutters in agreement, making sure to lock the door. In short time Hermione has rejoined them, pouring herself a bowl of cereal as Daphne passes her the jug of milk. Meissa, in between bites, flips through her notes, scribbling down more thoughts.
After yesterday she has basically eliminated the attic as a possible location for the nexus - which, in hindsight, makes plenty of sense. Sitting in the kitchen she can sense the nexus - the second floor and attic had dulled the nexus to the point of nonexistent - but it's not quite to the point of making her jittery. She has no doubts that if she goes downstairs she'll be so hyper Daphne and Hermione will want to tie her down.
It'd be a reminisce of what happened on Walpurgis night.
While she's sketching out the runes, relying on her memories for the correct shapes, she takes slow bites of her breakfast. Sometimes the spoon nearly misses her mouth. So intent on what she's working on she doesn't really pay much attention on what she's eating.
"Meissa," Daphne sighs as she reaches for the pen, waiting until the other girl is done with her sketching before taking it away.
"Sorry," she smiles apologetically, closing the notebook with the intention of finishing her cereal. Except she didn't get much time to eat when everyone hears a tapping sound from the window.
Startled she turns to the source, blinking when she finds three owls bearing mails. One, she reckons, is meant for herself.
"Expecting mail?" she questions as she gets up, taking her bowl with her. She sidetracks herself to get something to feed to the owls - getting some water as well. She makes a note to get some proper owl treats for next time. She opens the window just as Hermione joins her at the sill.
"It's the Daily Prophet, brilliant!"
"Why are you reading that trash?" Daphne asks in disbelief from where she's sitting.
"Some news is better than none," the Gryffindor defends.
"Government directed news is not really news," Meissa disagrees, laying out the treats and water for the owls as she retrieves the letters and the newspaper for Hermione. She hands out a letter to Daphne, grimacing as she realizes that she has at least ten letters to sort through. She hands a letter to Hermione, noticing that it's from Weasley.
"You're popular today," Daphne remarks as she breaks the seal on her letter.
"Unfortunately," Meissa mutters, sorting through the letters as the owls ate the bread she had torn for them. Her mail, it seems, consist entirely of letters from Gringotts - bank statements she suspects. There are a few letters she has been expecting.
She notes, with interest, that she has a response from the Flamels. Judging by the weight of the envelope she can judge that they've provided her a portkey as well. She sets the letter aside to read a bit later.
The next letter to catch her attention is addressed to her from an Andromeda Tonks.
"Andromeda," she mutters half to herself, trying to remember who on earth this is.
"Who's that?" Hermione asks, looking up from the newspaper.
"That's what I'm trying to remember," she grumbles, half irritated as the name eludes her.
"Isn't that one of your relatives?" Daphne points out, looking up from her letter.
She taps her chin with the letter as she thinks on it. Andromeda sounds like a name the family would use. The only one who doesn't have a name that is remotely close to being related to a star is her Aunt Narcis-
Oh.
"You look like someone who just made a connection."
"She's the sister of my mother," she remarks, opening the letter now.
To whom it may concern,
I thank you for the letter you've sent me several days ago. However I will have to decline your offer. My family and I have done well without the support of the House of Black.
Sincerely,
Andromeda Tonks
"That's a short letter," she notes idly. She hadn't honestly expected anything more. More than a decade of exile wouldn't do much in endearing the House to her aunt. She's not entirely sure what it would take to convince her to return.
Either way, this sets back her plans just a tad.
"There's something on the back," Daphne points out, prompting the girl to flip the parchment around. She notes, with amusement, that the writing is nearly illegible but the signature at the end confirms that its someone from the Tonks side of the family. Whoever wrote the note only left their surname so she has no hope of figuring out who the heck wrote this.
Meissa, cousin, wotcher! Don't listen to mum. I'm free to meet you in Diagon Alley this coming Saturday.
Tonks
"Anything good?" Hermione asks curiously.
"I suppose it is," Meissa agrees mildly, folding the parchment before returning it to the envelope. It seems, she thinks on the matter, that her aunt has a child who is willing to meet up with her. The question is, how does she convince the others to go to Diagon Alley? Perhaps the direct route may be best for this.
"Does anyone fancy a trip to the markets on Saturday?"
"Why?"
"Does it have something to do with your letter?" Daphne questions as Meissa picks up another letter - Rowls & Lars is written in a perfect script in the corner. She imagines that it's a response to the letter she sent them.
With her new responsibilities, she has ultimately decided she needs a lawyer on retainer. She is, after all, only twelve years old. On her long list of things to do, she considers locating and contacting the exiled Blacks her primary concern. She will, of course, be including their descendants in her attempt to restore the House. There's not much point of being the Lord of the House when it's just her. The family's habit of banishing the unwanted has created quite the dilemma for herself. She hopes that Rowls & Lars will be able to help her with tracking down the possible family. Along with dealing with any long-standing bank accounts.
"Meissa."
"Huh?" she looks up, blinking at them as she re-engaged with them.
"Why do you want to go to Diagon Alley?"
"Ah, someone from the Tonks family wants to meet with me," Meissa remarks as she breaks the seal on the envelope.
"How do you know them?" Hermione asks, glancing up from her newspaper.
"Andromeda," Meissa states as if that answers the question. As far as she's concern it does explain everything. The look she gets from Hermione - not that she noticed - indicated that wasn't enough.
She glances down at the contents of the letter from Rowls & Lars - it seems that they've given her a contract along with any information she would need about it. With a distracted noise she closes the envelope again for later. The fact that they've provided her with a contract - well, depending on the content, it may benefit the House. The other agencies she had considered was, to be frank, much too willing to try and take advantage of her age - or lack of.
That seems to be it for letters - thankfully.
"Maybe we can ask my parents if we can go," Hermione suggests, folding the newspaper as she looks at them.
Meissa nods idly as she picks up her bowl, finishing up the cereal. It tastes rather bland compared to what she's used to but, for the most part, it's not too bad. It's not something she can see herself having too often.
"What's the plan for today?" Daphne asks, with a scowl on her face as she starts to tear up the letter she has gotten. Steadfastly ignoring the questioning look she's getting from her fellow Slytherin.
"The nexus."
"What?"
The Slytherins glance at each other.
"Do you know what's a Nexus?" Daphne asks softly.
"I haven't read anything about them."
"They're rather ancient," Meissa remarks as she stirs the cereal. There isn't much left floating around in the milk so she doesn't feel compelled to continue eating. She's not entirely sure what to do with the milk. "There isn't a lot of texts that talk about them."
"They're a product of ley lines," Daphne adds. The shreds of the letter has been already thrown away into the waste basket. "Think of rivers and you might actually be close to the idea of what are ley lines."
"Are you sure there isn't any text about them?"
"Well…" Meissa twiddles the pen back and forth as she mentally reviews the Black Library. There's a fair amount of ancient texts that refers to information no longer available to the general public. A portion of the texts in the library have been classified as forbidden arts - the fact she has them can potentially get her heftily fined. It's rather fortunate that the books are locked away under in a room with an extremely powerful blood ward keeping them hidden away. "There is a tome or two in my family's library," she finally admits.
She turns a few pages in her notebook and starts to draw out the lay lines that are running through the nexus under the Granger's house. Once she's done with the rough sketch she turns the notebook around for Hermione to study. "There's two ancient lines. The largest one runs from the north to the south," she points to the one with the thickest lines. "This one runs east to west," she indicates the second which is marginally smaller than the first.
As far as she's aware the larger the lines the older they are.
"There's also a third one," she taps the last one that is probably one eighth the size of the largest. "If I had to make a guess, it's probably only a century old at this point."
"What can you do with a ley line?"
"It depends," Daphne remarks as she gathers the dishes and takes them to the sink. "They're not exactly easy to tap into but they can be a source of power."
"Which is why the tomes about them are hard to find."
"So, it would be possible."
"If you're willing to spend ten of thousands for them," Meissa agrees with a wry grin.
Hermione grimaces at her words while Daphne muffles her giggles.